


Meredith

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BDSM, It's actually very PG13 for a BDSM fic, M/M, Sub!Rodney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: John first stumbled upon the collar less than a week into their stay on Atlantis.





	Meredith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> Thank you to the three wonderful volunteers who checked this for my usual mistakes - have I mentioned how great I think this fandom is?

_ The door slid closed behind John with a whisper,  _ _ signalling _ _ the end of a long day.  The day had been filled with paperwork; boring and monotonous work that left him unpleasantly exhausted.  Mental exhaustion always seemed so much worse to John that physical exhaustion.  At least with physical tiredness, there was a tangible excuse.  It seemed faintly ridiculous to him that sitting in a comfortable chair at an ergonomically perfect desk,  _ _ initialling  _ _ an endless series of forms and review cards could leave him feeling as drained as if he had just gone four rounds with Teyla. _

_ When he stepped through the door of his quarters, John had been anticipating a quiet evening stretched out on his bed, a bowl of emergency Cheetos in his lap and an old college football game on his laptop.  One look at the sight that greeted him and his plans flew out of the open window. _

_ John felt his mouth twitch upwards in a half smile, his exhaustion all but gone.  Tingling with anticipation, he stripped off his uniform jacket and folded it over the back of his desk chair, careful not to disturb the pile of clothes that were already neatly stacked on its seat.  Rolling his shoulders to hear the joints pop, he turned away from the spectacle and forced himself to take a deep breath.  His shirt joined the jacket, leaving him bare chested, his BDUs and perennially unlaced boots still in place.   _

_ John walked over to the mini fridge and opened it, taking out two bottles of water.  He opened one and took a long pull, wetting his suddenly dry mouth.  He felt a little bit escape, trickling down the side of his mouth, and wiped it with the back of his hand, aware of eyes on him as he moved. _

_ “Eyes down,” he cautioned mildly.  He smiled as his orders were immediately followed.  Moving, he set both bottles on the side table and approached the kneeling form at the side of his bed.  “Have you eaten?” he asked. _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

_ The reply was clear and strong, even spoken to the floor as it was. _

_ “Are you off-radio?” _

_ Another affirmative. _

_ John circled around the other man, taking him in from all angles.  The open windows let a gentle breeze into the room, stirring the wispy fine hairs at the nape of the bowed neck and John couldn’t help but run his fingers through them, caressing the edge of the black leather collar that ringed the neck at the same time. _

_ “So, just to be clear:  I have you all night?  No interruptions?  You’re mine to do what I see fit with?” _

_ An audible swallow and a shiver that had nothing to do with the breeze from the open window against bare skin made him smile. _

_ “All night, sir.  No interruptions.  I’m yours, sir.  Always.” _

_ John bent down to drop a kiss against the top of the bowed head.  “Such a good boy,” he said.  “That’s my Meredith.” _

* * *

John first stumbled upon the collar less than a week into their stay on Atlantis.

Not even one week and Rodney had already found his way into the infirmary, having almost had the life sucked from him by some kind of energy cloud.  Not even a week and they had encountered two different life forms capable of sucking the life out of them.  That sure as hell hadn’t been in the brochure.

John had left a complaining Rodney in the infirmary while he rooted around Rodney’s already impressively messy room looking for something to help him while away his enforced twenty-four hour stay (or, to frame it more accurately, something to stave off the medical staff’s compulsion to murder Rodney during the twenty-four hour observation period.)  Whatever the reason, he had opened the top drawer of Rodney’s bedside cabinet to find the collar nestled inside.  

It was black leather; sturdy, functional; the only decoration a delicate silver circle dangling from it with a name engraved on it in a curling script.

Meredith.

On top of the bedside cabinet - pride of place, even more so than the numerous certificates and diplomas that adorned the walls - was a picture of what he assumed (hoped) was Rodney’s cat; a stripy, tabby looking creature with a black leather collar.  John dismissed the collar in the drawer, not thinking any more of it.  It was easily explained; Rodney missed his damn cat, enough that he used his personal item allowance to bring the cat’s collar with him.  It was a little sad, maybe, but nothing out of the ordinary.  John pushed it out of his mind and found a top of the line MP3 player in the third drawer down.

He thought he had forgotten about the collar entirely when, two years later, Rodney’s sister gleefully let slip that Rodney’s given name was Meredith.

After he was done laughing, John found enough breath to speak.  “Hold on, hold on.  I know that Rodney can be a little...full of himself at times but you’re seriously telling me that he named his damn cat after himself?”

Jeannie had frowned, making her look even more like Rodney - and wasn’t that a weird thought?  

“What?  No.  His cat - all of his cats - have been named after musical composers.  I think the last one was Johann.  Or maybe Wolfgang?”  She had broken off, grinning suddenly.  “That actually reminds me of something else.  So, when Meredith was ten…”   Jeannie had launched into another embarrassing McKay story, John’s question forgotten in the need to embarrass her brother.

John wasn’t able to forget quite so easily though.  For some reason, the collar - its existence - kept gnawing away at his mind and the desire to ask about it whispered around the tip of his tongue until one evening, weeks after Jeannie had returned to Earth, as they watched original Trek in Rodney’s room, John gave in.

“What was your cat’s name?”

Rodney pressed the key to pause the show, leaving Kirk covered in tribbles on the screen.  “My cat?” he replied, deadpan.

John nodded, swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat.  It felt like there was a lot riding on this question and he wasn’t sure why.

Rodney peered intently at him for a few seconds before answering.  “Amadeus,” he eventually said.  “Now, can we get back to watching the show or do you suddenly want to know the name of my third-grade teacher too?  It was Mrs Birchman if you must know.  She didn’t appreciate me correcting her mistakes but I was only there for a month before they skipped me up again.  Another name not to mention when I eventually accept my Nobel,” he mused.

Rodney moved to hit the key that would cause yet more tribbles to rain on Kirk but John couldn’t let it go that easily.  Not when he was so close to….something.

“So,” he asked for clarity, “your cat wasn’t named Meredith then?”

Rodney stiffened like he always did whenever the name Meredith was uttered by anyone.  It was a strange reaction; too rigid, too awkward, too personal to be merely a reaction to a name that he disliked.  There was something behind it, something more.  John needed to know what that something was.

“I thought we’d agreed that you’d drop that?” Rodney snapped.  “As I recall, there were several bars of chocolate exchanged to ensure that it was dropped.”

“That was between you and Ronon,” John argued.  “Also, you haven’t answered my question.”

“I haven’t..” Rodney threw his hands up in frustration.  “I literally just told you that my cat was called Amadeus or do your ears not work as well as being ridiculously pointy?”

John wouldn’t quit.  Couldn’t.  “So, you’ve never had a cat named Meredith?”

Rodney stared at him in dismay.  “Are you having a mental breakdown or something?  Is this some weird kind of PTSD that - I don’t know - makes you go around accusing people of having cats named Meredith?  It’s a stupid name for a cat; it means lord of the sea.  Cats hate the water!”

“Answer the question, Rodney.”

“I HAVE!” Rodney yelled.  “No.  I have never had a cat named Meredith.  Or a dog.  Or a goldfish - it would be a much more appropriate name for a goldfish - or a lizard or - - “

“Then why do you have a collar with the name Meredith engraved on it?”

John watched carefully as Rodney froze mid rant.  He had never seen Rodney stunned to silence but he was seeing it now and all it did was make John even more convinced that he needed to get to the bottom of this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The stunned silence didn’t last long as Rodney made a bare faced attempt at a lie.

“Is that so?”  John stood and made a move towards the drawer that he had last seen the collar in, Rodney’s wide eyes following him every inch of the way.  He was counting on Rodney as a creature of habit, counting on the collar still being there and Rodney’s reaction told him he was correct.  “So, if I open this drawer, you’re saying that I won’t find a black leather collar with a little silver nameplate hanging from it?”  His hand moved towards the drawer handle slowly, carefully, giving Rodney plenty of time to admit it, to explain himself, to stop him.

Rodney didn’t say anything, just sat there wide eyed and lost looking and John sighed, moving away and sitting back down on the bed.  “Look, Rodney...I’ve seen it.”

“When?” Rodney whispered.

“Years ago,” John stressed.  “When we first came here.”  He could see Rodney was shaking now, actually trembling with some emotion that John was only just starting to recognise.  He reached out to grab Rodney’s wrist, steadying his shaking hands.  “It...it’s not a cat’s collar is it?”

A minute shake of the head was all he got.  John shifted closer and tried again.

“Is it yours?”

Rodney nodded quietly before laughing abruptly.  “Fine,” he spat.  “Yes, it’s mine.”  He pulled his hand out from under John’s grasp and stood, striding over to his bedside cabinet, opening the drawer and pulling the collar out.  He buckled it around his neck with shaking hands, eyes blazing.  “Happy now?  Rodney McKay likes to wear a collar and take orders in the bedroom.  Tell all your friends, I’m sure they’ll be lining up to take a shot.”

As quickly as it came, the heat was gone and Rodney visibly deflated, collapsing on the nearby computer chair.  He looked exhausted, completely and utterly vanquished and John knew it was all his fault.

“Rodney?” John questioned tentatively.

“What now?” Even Rodney’s voice sounded defeated.  “What could you possibly want now, Colonel?”

John took a jump and answered with the truth.

“Everything.”

* * *

_ “Up on the bed.  Position two.” _

_ John didn’t wait to see if his instructions were followed, didn’t need to.  He trusted they would be and busied himself with pulling out the tools he wanted to use tonight.  A spool of soft, black rope that he’d traded a box of power bars for at an offworld market; a strip of black silk that he would use as a blindfold.  Meredith looked good in black, the dark colour making his pale skin glow by comparison. _

_ He cast his eyes appraisingly over the suede flogger that Ronon had presented them with three weeks into their relationship - the mystery of how Ronon knew was still unresolved but John suspected Teyla had a hand in it.  He let himself linger in the memory of the last time he’d used it, shivering at the memory of Meredith’s soft skin heating up underneath it. _

_ John glanced back at the bed, pleased but not surprised to find Meredith settled perfectly in position number two - kneeling high at the top of the bed, his hands pressed flat against the wall, ass on display. _

_ “I’m thinking about using the flogger,” he said mildly, letting his fingers trail over the softly knotted lengths.  “Get your skin all nice and pink for me.” _

_ Meredith didn’t answer.  After all, he hadn’t asked a direct question yet.  _

_ John smiled, proud, and continued to look over the options available to him.  “Or maybe I want to give you more personal attention tonight,” he mused.  “Maybe I’ll just use my hand.  Would you like that?” _

_ A direct question.  Meredith nodded frantically. “Yes, sir.  Please, sir.” _

_ “Hmmm,” John turned away from the chest of tools, bringing the rope and silk with him.  Moving on to the bed, he nosed at Meredith’s neck, breathing him in, before tying the silk blindfold in place.   _

_ “I can’t decide.”  He sucked at Meredith’s earlobe, making him gasp.  “What would you like me to give you tonight, Mer?” _

_ Meredith shuddered as John blew a puff of air against his wet lobe.  He answered the question without hesitance. _

_ “Everything.” _

* * *

“Everything,” Rodney repeated blankly.  His hands shook as he struggled to unbuckle the leather collar.  “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

John knew that probably deserved that.  He hadn’t meant to harass Rodney like this, somewhere along the line he’d lost sight of his friend and his right to privacy in his need to get to the bottom of a suspicion held so deeply that it took him by surprise when it was confirmed.  But, honestly, now that it was confirmed, he couldn’t regret a thing.

John had wanted Rodney for a painfully long time.  A ‘Major, think about where we are in the solar system’ long time.  Yet he had never acted on it.  The first time he’d seen Rodney rule over his lab with an iron fist, barking out orders and having them followed to the letter, he’d made a conscious, informed decision to  _ never _ act on it.  As attracted as he was to Rodney, physically and - more surprisingly - mentally, John had been right to draw that line in the sand. 

Friends.

Nothing more.  They couldn’t be anything more.  John had turned his back on his dominant side in an ill-fated attempt to be ‘normal’ (whatever that is) when he decided to marry Nancy and there was nothing that could make him do that again.  Not even Rodney McKay’s pert ass, blue eyes and quick mind.  After his marriage fell apart, John had embraced that part of himself and he wasn’t ever going back.

John had closed the door on a possibility with Rodney because he couldn’t imagine the snarky, bad tempered, courageous idiot ever submitting to anyone.

God, now it was all he could think about.

Rodney eventually succeeded in removing the collar.  John half expected him to throw it on the ground, or on the bed, but Rodney always did live to defy his expectations; had since the day he’d bounded up to John and ordered him to shoot him in the leg.

Rodney very carefully laid the collar back in its drawer, treating it like it was something treasured, something special.  Hell, he was treating it as carefully as he would a ZPM.

“I’d like for you to leave now,” Rodney said quietly.  “Just, please leave.  If you were ever my friend, you’ll never mention this again.”

The pain in Rodney’s voice hit John like a sucker punch - making him realise just how fucking badly he’d screwed up.  Panicked, he found himself standing in front of Rodney, gripping his arms with both hands, holding him in place.

“Rodney, Jesus...look, I wasn’t being an asshole.  I mean - I was, it was shitty of me to force you to - - but I - - shit, you know I’m no good with this talking crap.” A pause.  A deep breath.  “I meant it.  I meant  _ everything _ .”

Rodney’s eyes were stuck on John’s hands, on the way they were locked tightly around his forearms, hard enough to leave red marks on the skin, but he looked up at John’s face at ‘everything’.

“Do you even know what the hell you’re doing?” he asked.

“If you’re asking if I’ve topped before, dommed, then yes.”

Rodney’s eyes widened in surprise for just a moment before his face shuttered back to a careful blank.  “And if that’s not what I’m asking?”

John barked out an abrupt laugh, releasing his grip on Rodney’s arms.  He sat back down on the bed, needing the extra support.  “Not a clue,” he admitted.  “And it scares the shit out of me but,” he looked beseechingly at Rodney, “I didn’t even suspect that this was an option until Jeannie told me your real name and - fuck, Rodney - I want this.”

“What do you want?” Rodney’s chin jutted out as he held his head high.  “You want the great Rodney McKay kneeling at your feet?  Huh?  You want to show him his rightful place?  I’ve been through that shit before Colonel and - - “

“No,” John interrupted, furious at whoever had treated Rodney like that in the past.  “God, no.  I want…” John swallowed hard and dug deep.  He needed to get this right and that meant actually using his damn words.  This was too close, too important to mess up.  “I want to be the one who gives you what you need,” he said.  “That release.  You’re..you’re the answer man, Rodney; the one that we turn to every time shit goes sideways and expect to save us all.  You’ve got the weight of the whole damn mission on your shoulders, every day, and I can only imagine how exhausting that must be.  I want to help you forget about that.  I want to be the one who can take that weight off you.”

It was Rodney’s turn to laugh.  

“Congratulations, Colonel, you took a psychology class in college.  Or maybe just read an issue of Cosmo in some stupid waiting room.  Remind me to tell Elizabeth that you can fill in for Heightmeyer the next time she’s on leave.”

“Damnit Rodney, I’m trying here.  What the hell do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?”  Rodney stood up and started to pace.  He shook his head.  “What I want from you Colonel would have you running for the hills.”

“Try me,” John challenged.

Rodney stopped pacing and turned towards John.  John felt pinned under the weight of Rodney’s stupidly blue eyes, a million emotions crossing Rodney’s face as he processed whatever it was he read in John’s own expression.  

“Why not?” he muttered.  “It’s not like the whole friendship isn’t already ruined.”  Rodney sat back down in the computer chair, shoulders slumped and started to speak to the floor, clear and careful.  “I want you to take my voice away,” he said.  “I want you to strip me of my defences and make me still.  I want to kneel in front of you, that collar around my neck, and for you to call me beautiful.  I want you to hurt me just enough that it feels good.”  Rodney’s voice cracked, as he chanced a look up at John.  “I want you to make me fly, John. I want to show you that I can fly too.”  

John didn’t know what to say.  Here was everything he’d ever wanted offered up to him on a plate and - - he had nothing.

Rodney smiled sadly.  “I want you to call me Meredith,” he admitted.  “I want to be Meredith for you.”  He dropped his head again to look at the floor.  “I want you to leave now.”

John did the only thing he could do.  He stood up from the bed, jostling the forgotten laptop as he moved.  Rodney didn’t make a move to stop him, not that John expected him to; he knew that he had screwed up here, he just hoped he could make it right.

The door was in front of him and John paused, heart racing.  He couldn’t leave it like this.  He turned towards Rodney, still in the chair - head in hands - looking every bit as miserable as John felt.

“I didn’t mean to push you on this,” John said quietly.  “And I’ll leave because that’s what you want but, Jesus, Rodney...you have to know that I want it too.  I would do every single thing you want of me.  All of it.  Everything.” 

With that final declaration, John turned to leave.

Rodney’s voice stopped him.

“Isn’t  it supposed to be the other way around?”

John shook his head, no.  “If you never want this with me, I can deal with that.  I’ve spent long enough - - “ John cut himself off.  This wasn’t about him, wasn’t even about ‘them’.  It was more important than that.  “But, whoever you find, never let them forget that you  _ choose  _ to kneel for them.  Whatever power they have, it exists only because you gave it to them and they had better appreciate that for the..the gift that it would be.”  John sighed heavily.  “And, with that final nugget, I promise not to ever mention any of this again.  And I’ll make sure that nobody calls you Mere-” he stopped himself, “that name again.  It’s not for them to use, I get that now.”

The door started to slide open at John’s command and Rodney stood up abruptly.  Then sat back down again just as quickly.

John closed the door with another command and waited patiently.

Rodney took a deep breath and stood again, moving this time to stand in front of John, just inside the door to his room, so close that John was almost pressed up against the door.

“My sister is the only other person that calls me that.  It’s...awkward.”

John couldn’t help but smile.  “Yeah, I can see how it would be.  I’m guessing it’s not exactly an easy conversation to have.”

Rodney made a noise of agreement.  “I did actually tell her once.  Laid it all out.  ‘Hey, Jeannie, do you mind not calling me Meredith anymore because that’s the name I use when I’m naked and on my knees?’”  He snorted dismissively.  “She told me the day that I would submit to anyone was the day she’d quit science.  Look how that turned out.”  Rodney’s shoulders slumped.  “You were right; your little psych 101 babble.  I need what the collar gives me, what being Meredith gives me, but I also need to be me.  My own damn sister, the person who knew me better than anyone, she couldn’t believe that I  - - I won’t stop being me.” Rodney’s eyes were blazing now.  “I won’t blindly follow when I’m not wearing the collar and I won’t wear it all the time.  I won’t curb my working hours or change my diet.  I won’t give up control of my lab.  I won’t - - “

“I wouldn’t want you to do any of that,” John interrupted.  “I mean, not gonna lie, the whole Meredith  thing is really hot and I need that too - it’s why I never pursued you before - but,” John shrugged, “I fell for Rodney.  I’m...I’m willing to give this a go if you are.”

John stayed where he was, gently leaning against the door, and watched as Rodney took a step back, composing himself.

Rodney rolled his shoulders, letting all the fight go out of them and, with a nod, he took a deep breath and fell to his knees.

* * *

_ “Everything.” _

_ Meredith shuddered at John’s promise, arching his back in just the right way to push his bare ass against John.  John moaned loudly, his already hard cock twitching in his pants. _

_ “The things you do to me, Mer.” _

_ Moving to put space between them, John shushed Meredith’s mewl of complaint by rubbing his hands across the pale, round curve of Meredith’s ass.   _

_ “Patience,” he smirked.  “You know I’ll get you there.”  He placed a soft kiss on the small of Meredith’s back.  “It’s my  _ _ honour _ _ and privilege to get you there.” _

_ “Sir.  John.  Please.” _

_ John didn’t have it in him to refuse, not when Meredith was being so good.  He raised his hand in the air, preparing to land the first blow - the first of many.  He was going to see just how red he could get that beautiful ass before he buried himself in it.  There was just one last thing to do first. _

_ “Remember,” he breathed, “any time you need me to stop, just say your safeword.  Be a good boy for me and say it now.  Let me hear it.” _

_ Meredith drew in a soft breath, the last hint of tension seeping out of his shoulders as he exhaled, relaxing, ready to let John take control. _

_ “Say it,” John asked again. _

_ Meredith smiled and answered. _

_ “Rodney” _   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Popkin! I hope you have the best of days. Sub Rodney is life ;)


End file.
